Christmas Comes to Morning Star Read online

  “Jah, there were too many candles on those cakes to count!” her sister put in a little too cheerfully.

  Knowing that she and Marietta were no longer destined to live out their lives alone together, as the Slabaughs were, gave Molly a whole new reason to smile. “The more candles on your cake, the lighter your life,” she replied happily. “We’re thirty-five now—and our future’s so bright, we’ve got to wear shades!”

  With that, Molly turned to find Pete in the crowd. When she spotted him near a back table, his happy-go-lucky grin in place again, she made her way through the other folks who were taking their seats.

  Today’s the first day of the rest of your life. Make it count!

  As her mamm’s favorite words rang in her mind, Molly knew they’d never been truer.

  Chapter 18

  As the bishop’s approaching footsteps echoed in the Hartzlers’ hallway, Jo prayed as hard as she ever had in her life.

  God, You’ve got to help me—and help Mamm, as well. We can’t go on this way any longer—because I have nothing to confess!

  Her mother was seated a few feet away from her, glaring incessantly—as though this would prompt Jo to admit her guilt and return their lives to the comfortable, everyday companionship they’d known before they’d ever met the Wengerds.

  But Jo couldn’t turn back the clock. And she refused to act as though her feelings for Michael didn’t matter.

  Bishop Jeremiah entered the office and closed the door behind him. He rolled Saul’s wooden chair from behind the big desk so he could sit closer to Jo and her mamm, without a massive piece of furniture between them. “Have either of you come to any new conclusions?” he asked softly. “Before I went out to lead the table grace, we prayed on this situation. And I reminded you of the proper steps leading to a member’s confession—”

  “Well, you were wrong, Bishop!” Mamm blurted out. “As a parent watching out for the welfare of my daughter’s soul, I have every right to call her to confess. Especially because she’s too blind—or too stubborn—to come clean on her own.”

  Jo sighed. Not only was her mother repeating her earlier misguided logic, she was also speaking loudly enough that folks out in the front room could probably hear her. And she’d defied the bishop to his face!

  Jeremiah was gracious enough not to point this out. He settled back in the creaking chair, watching Mamm more closely now, as though reconsidering how to approach the difficult topic they were dealing with. “And what is it you believe Jo needs to confess, Drusilla?”

  Mamm sat taller, determined to make her point—and to get her way. “Not only did she go—unchaperoned—to the Wengerd place for three days, she did it after I’d told her not to!”

  The bishop smoothed his beard on either side of his mouth, perhaps to wipe a smile from his face. “Children have been acting against their parents’ wishes since Adam and Eve raised their two sons,” he reminded her. “And let’s not forget that Jo’s an adult, with the firm sense of right and wrong you and Joe instilled in her as a child—”

  “But she’s been hoodwinked! Blinded by love—or what she thinks is love—because Michael’s been sweet-talking her!” Mamm countered. “She’s not thinking straight these days.”

  Jo’s cheeks blazed with humiliation. Was there anything more embarrassing than hearing her mother dismiss her tender feelings for Michael with the leader of the church present—and as though Jo weren’t sitting right there?

  “Falling in love can do that to the most levelheaded amongst us,” Bishop Jeremiah pointed out kindly. “It’s God’s way of opening our hearts and souls to let another person into our lives on a level that allows for two to become one.”

  “She’s not going to marry him!”

  Jeremiah’s expression became more wary and more concerned as he gazed at Jo’s mother. “But, Drusilla, it’s the natural order of things for men and women to marry—and it’s one of the most important pillars of our Amish faith,” he insisted. “The loving, stable relationship you and her father shared served as an excellent example to Jo, showing her how two people learn to live with each other and—”

  “Let’s leave Joe out of this.” Mamm smoothed her apron over her lap, focusing on hands that were getting knobby with arthritis. “I’ve tried to warn my daughter about the pitfalls of—tried to protect her, because she’s led a very sheltered life, Bishop. But despite my efforts on her behalf, she betrayed me by taking up with Michael and Nelson. She’s leaving me behind as though all my years of devotion and care mean nothing to her.”

  Tears sprang to Jo’s eyes. “That’s not true,” she protested, turning away in her pain. Even to her own ears, however, her emotion-choked voice sounded less than convincing.

  After Bishop Jeremiah gave her a few moments to compose herself, he asked, “And what’s your side of this story, Jo? While you were visiting the Wengerd place, did you do anything you need to confess—”

  “Absolutely not!” Jo blurted. She hesitated to discuss the soulful hopes and dreams she and Michael had shared as they’d walked together and basked in the beauty of thousands of red poinsettias. But unless the bishop heard the truth, as only she could tell it, her mother’s accusations would stand, wouldn’t they?

  “Matter of fact, Nelson is very aware that Mamm’s afraid she’ll be left alone if Michael and I—even though they invited her to come along on the visit and she refused to join us,” Jo insisted. “Truth be told, I think she’s afraid of her feelings for Nelson—who is a very nice man—”

  “What a bunch of baloney!” Mamm broke in. “This is just one more example of how the Wengerds have warped your thought process, Josephine.”

  Only the spark of mirth in Bishop Jeremiah’s eyes kept Jo from walking out of the room in total exasperation. Was he reading between the lines, drawing his own conclusions despite the way her mother railed at her?

  His expression softened as he held Jo’s gaze. “Has Michael made his intentions known to you, Jo?” he asked gently.

  She swallowed hard. This still seemed like such a private subject, too tender and new to jeopardize by allowing other folks to analyze it. But she sensed the bishop was taking her side—and for that, she was very grateful.

  “Jah, he wants to court me, and Nelson has given us his blessing,” she whispered. “Michael and I—well, we understand each other. He and his dat have expanded their nursery into an amazing business, and they appreciate the way I’ve been able to develop The Marketplace, and—and we speak the same language about such business concerns.

  “I have not been hoodwinked, Bishop,” Jo continued in an urgent rush. “I have been welcomed and included and valued for the talents God has given me—more than just cooking and sewing and running a household. I—I already know I’ll be expected to give up my bakery and my role as The Marketplace’s manager if I marry—”

  “How can you even be thinking about marriage?” Mamm demanded incredulously. “You hardly know these people!”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Bishop Jeremiah sat forward, his gaze lingering on Jo before he focused on her mother. “I sense nothing sinful or secretive about what Jo has told us, Drusilla. I know you don’t agree with me, but I believe your fears for your daughter’s welfare are unfounded and—well, they’re your fears.”

  He paused until he was sure Mamm wasn’t going to interrupt him again. “Every parent wonders if her child’s on the right life path, but I feel Jo is living out the aspirations God has had for her all along,” Bishop Jeremiah continued. “I see no need for a public confession—or a private one, for that matter.”

  The bishop allowed a few moments for his decision to sink in. “I know better than to tell you it’s time to remarry, Drusilla,” he continued carefully, “but I sincerely believe you’d be better off if you had someone to share your life with again—and Nelson Wengerd is a compassionate, upstanding man who would support you well. So’s Michael, and I believe he’ll take gut care of your daughter. Because both of them are somewhat
older than a lot of young folks who marry, they stand a better chance of finding true happiness together.”

  The emotions at war on Mamm’s face made her expression change with every word the bishop was saying, but she held her tongue.

  Bishop Jeremiah rose from his chair, smiling at Jo. “I wish you all the best, dear. I hope that—despite your mamm’s objections—you and Michael will find a deeply satisfying and lasting love for each other as time goes by.”

  Mamm stood up, bristling like a cat that had been splashed with water. “All my years of guidance and devotion, tossed aside just like that,” she said, snapping her fingers for emphasis. “I hope we don’t all come to regret your decision, Bishop.”

  Holding the office door open, he gestured for Mamm and Jo to precede him into the hallway. “God’s in charge—and God is gut.”

  “All the time,” Jo chimed in. She waited for her mother to head down the hallway before speaking to Jeremiah. “Denki so much for your support, Bishop.”

  “You’re welcome, Jo.” He sighed as they watched her mother find a place at a table with some of the other ladies. “I’m concerned about your mamm’s anxiety. It reminds me a lot of my own mother’s difficult disposition a while back, until she got a handle on her um, time of life.”

  He cleared his throat as he ventured into a topic Jo sensed he didn’t speak of often. “I hope this is just Drusilla’s hormones we hear talking, and I’m going to encourage my mamm and some of the other ladies to speak with her. There are some issues a man should just stay out of.”

  Hormones? Jo hadn’t thought about her mother possibly going through the change of life, which made a lot of women cranky and a little crazy. Jo admired Jeremiah’s willingness to mention such a private matter to her—even as she couldn’t help chuckling at his tone of voice.

  “I don’t think I’m the one to be counseling her on such things, either, because no matter what I say, she’ll disagree with it,” Jo said with a shake of her head. “It’s another matter we should pray over and leave to God. Hopefully she’ll listen when He and your mother speak to her.”

  * * *

  Pete watched Molly approaching him, her gaze so intense that he gripped the top of the table to keep from collapsing unceremoniously onto the bench. What was she thinking? She’d heard his uncle’s announcement about his taking church instruction, and she’d surely figured out what his sketches meant by now—

  At least she’s not running the other way. Whatever she dishes out, I’d better just suck it up.

  “Pete! It’s gut to see you—to finally have a chance to catch up with you today,” Molly said breezily. “How’ve you been?”

  Her green eyes seemed catlike and elusive, and after Pete got lost in them he had to remind himself that she was waiting for his response. “Uh—busy!” he blurted. “Really busy.”

  He gestured toward the bench, wishing his uncle wasn’t heading for a spot on the other side of their table—and wishing he didn’t sound like a tongue-tied adolescent in Molly’s presence. “Well? What’d you think?”

  “Well,” Molly echoed as she gracefully stepped over the bench and sat down. “That’s a deep subject, Shetler.”

  Pete groaned at their longtime joke. Would he have to ask her for every specific detail about her thoughts on the drawings—or about his joining the church? He sat down beside her, as close as he dared, considering Uncle Jeremiah’s proximity. The bishop had been waylaid by Reuben Detweiler, however, so Pete blundered ahead.

  “Do you think those drawings will work—that they’ll be something you’d like me to start on?” he whispered nervously. “I’ll have to finish Glenn’s place first, of course, and then the big remodeling project at my uncle’s house, but after that I can—”

  When Molly rested her warm hand on his forearm, Pete’s mind blanked out.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” she said hesitantly. “Those sketches are the neatest, most precise renderings I’ve ever seen, but why are you designing a new house, Pete? Are you tired of living with your unc—”

  “That’s your place, Moll! When Marietta told me we’d be welcome to live there after we got hitched, I—oh, phooey!”

  Pete’s face flared so hot and red that it would take a fire engine to put out the blaze in his cheeks. Oh, but he’d messed up now! Molly’s green eyes suddenly took up her entire face—a face that was turning as pink as his was.

  “My—my sister never told me about this idea,” she rasped. “Does she know you plan to marry her? Do you know that she and Glenn are—”

  “I must’ve left my brains at home today,” Pete muttered. “You make me crazy, Molly.”

  “No, no—don’t blame me for the condition you were in long before you bunked at our place,” she retorted. But at least she was making her usual jokes rather than grilling him—or flat-out rejecting him.

  “Let me get this straight,” Molly went on in a low voice. “The sketches you gave me are suggestions for remodeling the house where Marietta and I live—”

  “Because it’s the best birthday present I could think of,” Pete put in earnestly. “Because, what with Detweiler building a new house—and he’s obviously been trying to win you over ever since he moved in with you—I wanted to offer you my alternative. It’s tough to compete against a guy with a new house, a cute little boy, and a cuddly baby, not to mention a sweet older dat who’s been helping you with—”

  Once again the warm pressure of Molly’s hand on his arm sent Pete’s mind into a tailspin. It didn’t help that Uncle Jeremiah was taking his place across the table from them—and obviously enjoying the spectacle his blabbering, blundering nephew was making of himself.

  Molly’s eyes were glowing like an evergreen forest alight with sunshine. “Pete,” she whispered. Then she said his name again, as though she, too, needed to regain control of her thoughts. “Pete, you’ve got it wrong.”

  His heart stopped beating. What did he have wrong? Did Molly care so much for Glenn that he was too late offering her his remodeling plans—offering her his heart? If she was giving him a kiss-off, why did she have to look so pretty? And why did her mouth, mere inches from his own as she leaned toward him, look so very kissable?

  “H-how do you mean, wrong?” he stammered.

  She smiled sweetly. “Before we twins lit the candles on our cakes a while ago, Billy Jay gave my sister a homemade card that knocked her socks off,” she explained patiently. “If you’d noticed the way Marietta has taken to little Levi and Billy Jay—and if you’d seen this card picturing all four of the Detweilers, saying they love her—you’d realize that Glenn’s falling hard for my sister, Pete. Not for me.”

  Across the table, Uncle Jeremiah was choking on his laughter, as though Molly had just stated the world’s most obvious truth. Apparently the bishop—and everyone else—already knew that Detweiler was pursuing the other Helfing twin, and Pete was the last person to figure it out.

  He swallowed hard, digesting what he’d just heard. “So Detweiler hasn’t been using his cute little kid and his dat to make you want to—to become a part of his family?”

  Molly shook her head, holding his gaze. It was one of the most sincere, straightforward answers she’d ever given him. No punching his arm. No teasing or spinning his words in a different direction. No fingers crossed behind her back.

  A weight lifted from his soul. Pete’s mind and body relaxed as he realized what this meant. “So you’re telling me I didn’t need to sketch remodeling plans for your house to convince you—”

  “Oh, I’m not letting you wiggle out of your offer, Shetler,” Molly challenged. “Our house does need some updating. And if a top-shelf carpenter like you wants to take on such a project, who am I to say no?

  “But we’re just talking about the remodeling, understand,” she continued, raising one eyebrow. “Before you go thinking new kitchen cabinets will be your ticket to living at our place again, you have some talking to do! A man who’s finally decided to take his church in
struction has a lot on his mind—and I’m not going to read your mind, Shetler. I’m not making any assumptions, either. You’ll have to spell it all out for me.”

  “Gut for you, Molly! You go, girl!” Uncle Jeremiah said, slapping the table in his excitement.

  Pete let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ll talk later,” he muttered, although he felt as lighthearted as he’d ever been in his life. Molly knew exactly what his intentions were—and she’d cleared the slate for him. Glenn was no longer a rival. It was all good, and he intended to do a lot more than spelling things out when he and Molly could be alone, without his uncle and the other folks who were passing platters in the Hartzlers’ crowded front room.

  Before anyone could further distract them, Pete grasped Molly’s hand and held her gaze. “After lunch we’re going for that truck ride you refused a while back, all right? Just you and me and Riley—”

  “Oh, I’d love to see Riley!”

  Pete looked helplessly toward the ceiling, hoping God might eventually rescue him from all these little rabbit trails Molly was leading him along. “I should’ve stuck with my original plan and had Riley be my front man—should’ve had him deliver those drawings to you,” he remarked under his breath.

  Molly considered this statement. “Jah, that would’ve been a fun touch, but his slobber would’ve smeared your sketches, ain’t so? You spent a lot of time and thought on your drawings, Shetler.”

  Hope glimmered within him at her compliment.

  She smiled demurely, including his uncle in her gaze. “But getting back to your invitation—you realize that as a member of the Old Order, I’m not supposed to ride in anyone’s car on a Sunday. And the bishop’s wondering if I’ll respond properly or if I’ll break that rule right under his nose.”

  Pete blinked. Leave it to Molly to bring up one of those obscure Amish regulations that he’d never understood the need for. He kept his mouth shut, however, awaiting Uncle Jeremiah’s reaction.